Overdue
by Telemain's Daughter
Summary: Missing library books. A psychic in distress. A séance where nothing is as it seems. With flood waters rising and a cranky cop on their case, the Winchester brothers are in for a weird night.


**OVERDUE: A SUPERNATURAL FANFIC**

 _A/N: When you really start to think about it, libraries show up a lot in fandom. (**whispers** I think it's because we're all nerds...) Doctor Who, Harry Potter, Buffy, Welcome to Night Vale, even the staggering amount of time Sam spends in public libraries in Season One of SPN. Throw in a little Lovecraft and library science, and you get—this fic._

 _Set whenever you want it to be set. It has no connections to SPN mythology, and thus, no spoilers. Just a fun adventure, written for my sister, who started a new job recently, as—you guessed it—a librarian. Enjoy, and let me know what you think._

 _All rights belong to the creators._

* * *

" _Librarians are horrifying creatures of unimaginable power."-Welcome to Night Vale_

* * *

"I don't understand," Cara muttered, clicking through to another page on the library's online card catalog. "Where are all the books _going_?"

Her girlfriend, Simone, draped herself over Cara's shoulders and flexed her fingers. "Let me have a crack at it."

Cara smacked her lightly. "Get away from my laptop with your Dorito-hands. Anyway, you can't fix this—I don't think it's a glitch. All of our books on cephalopods are listed as 'unknown', and when I call the other branches, they don't have them on shelf."

"So you have a squid-obsessed book thief."

"I guess." Cara closed her laptop and rubbed her hands over her face.

"You're messing up your make-up," Simone pointed out around a mouthful of Doritos.

"Ugh, let's just do this." Cara pushed away from her desk and hit the lights on their way out. The basement hallway was lit with a single, flickering fluorescent strip light; someday, Cara reflected, they would raise enough money to buy nice things.

"I'm just going to say this one last time," Simone warned, dusting off her orange-tipped fingers, "'Library Lock-In with Psychic Simone!' was _your_ idea."

"Yeah, but you're psychic. You should have seen this coming the minute we started dating."

"You're just using me for my powers."

"I'm saying you could at least _try_ and head off my terrible ideas," Cara said, cracking a smile for the first time that night and gently hip-checking her girlfriend.

Simone dropped a kiss on Cara's wispy, white-blonde hair. "When do the marks get here?" she asked, crumpling up her empty chip bag and lobbing it through the open break room door.

"They are _library patrons_ , not _marks_ , and the program starts at eight." Cara ducked into the darkened break room. "You know this landed nowhere near the trash, right?"

Simone made a weird snorting noise out in the hall. Just as Cara replaced the lid on the trash bin, the rust-stained porcelain sink gave a hideous gurgle and belched a puff of mildewy air. Cara fumbled for the light switch, flicking it on and off. The lights did not come on.

"Gross," she murmured. "Simone, can I borrow the flashlight on your phone for a sec? Simone?" She stepped out to the hallway. "Can I—ohmygod, _Simone_!"

Simone lay convulsing on the carpet, her eyes rolled back in her head. Cara dropped beside her and rolled her onto her side. Simone gagged and a gush of dirty water spilled out of her mouth. She sucked in a deep breath and then lay still, apparently passed out. Cara stared at the wet carpet, then back at the dark doorway to the break room. The drain rumbled again. Overhead, the fluorescent light flashed wildly and then went out.

With a shaking hand, Cara eased Simone's phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She pressed 9 and 1, then changed her mind and called the first number on Simone's speed-dial instead.

* * *

"I swear, Sam, if I have to visit one more godforsaken library to help you look for books that aren't there, I am leaving you at the bus stop." Dean Winchester pushed a map out of his face. "And keep this shit on _your_ side of the car."

"There's a pattern here, I know there is," Sam groused, trying to spread the map out on the dashboard. "If I could just—no, you know what, we need to stop."

"Dude."

"I need a wall, I need some pushpins-"

"Dude."

"Some things, Dean, you just can't do in a car."

"Dude, answer your phone."

"What?" Sam looked up and around. "I thought that was your phone."

" _I_ do not have the _Star Wars_ theme as my ringtone," Dean said. "Answer your damn phone."

Sam fished his phone out of his backpack and flipped it open. "Hello? Hey, Bobby." He covered the mouthpiece. "It's Bobby."

"No shit."

"I'm putting you on speaker, Bobby," Sam warned, and balanced the phone on the edge of his seat while he tried unsuccessfully to refold his map.

"Are you boys still working that library case?" Bobby's tinny voice asked.

"Wow, Bobby," Dean deadpanned, "it's like you're psychic or something."

"No, but I just heard from one. Seems she's getting messages from the underworld. Or underwater. Or from an overlord. Frankly, the message was kinda garbled, but she's at a library in your area and I'm still dealing with this damn rakshasa in Indiana, so I'll text you the address as soon as I get off here." Bobby paused. "What's all that rustling on your end?"

"Okay! Thanks, Bobby, we'll check it out!" Sam hung up. He waited for the text to come through, then consulted his map. "We need to turn around," he said.

Dean sighed, and did a U-turn across the road. "Just for the record, Sam," he said, punching the accelerator, "there is _nothing_ you can't do in a car."

* * *

Simone downed another ibuprofen tablet with a swig of water from her third glass, and tried to look more like a sexy, mysterious psychic, and less like a murderous undead raccoon, which was what she actually felt like. Channeling that _thing_ had left her thirsty as all hell, and given her a nasty headache as a parting gift.

Cara's library patrons were arriving and settling themselves at the round, velvet-draped table set up in the front room of the old house. Cara had been all for canceling the event after whatever the hell had happened in the basement, but Simone knew how much some of these patrons paid in library guild membership fees—and how much the continued supply of that money helped Cara keep this crumbling wreck of a sea-captain's-house-turned-library in operation.

Seaside Quay was a small town, the county seat in a sparsely populated area of coastal Maine. The county library system—of which Cara was the assistant director _and_ Seaside Quay branch manager _and_ fundraising coordinator—depended on meager tax money and the generous donations of people like... Simone surveyed the table. People like Mr. Norris. Supremely annoying people like Mr. Norris, who wore seaweed-colored sweaters and seemed to be physically incapable of shutting up about tide pools. Simone sighed. It was going to be a long evening.

Cara touched her hand and leaned over. "Are you absolutely sure you're okay?"

"Absolutely?" Simone raised an eyebrow. "Absolutely not. But I do know I'm not about to keel over. I love you, babe, but you need to stop hovering."

"You look hungover," Cara protested.

"All part of the atmosphere." Simone gave her girlfriend's hand a quick squeeze. "I'd kiss you, but the marks don't need more of a show. Now go hover somewhere else. You put a call in to Bobby Singer, I'm not actively puking, it's all good."

Cara looked skeptical, but she pushed back her chair and stood up. "Stop calling them marks," she hissed, and went to answer a knock at the front door.

She returned with two overly handsome young men in flannel. "You really need a bed to do it properly," the taller one was saying. "Or at least a couch."

"I disagree," said the other.

"I'm not having this conversation."

"Welcome, everyone," Cara said, with forced cheer. Simone wondered if anyone besides herself could see how upset Cara was. "I'm so glad everyone could make it tonight. And it looks like we have a couple late-comers." She nodded at the young men, who were looking increasingly uncomfortable. "Seaside Quay started out as a sea-faring town, a port of call for-"

"Actually," interrupted Mr. Norris, and Simone wanted to stab him. "The site of this town is a tidal basin, so really it _started out_ completely underwater. People drained the tidal basin to create this town."

"That's so fascinating," said Cara. "Seaside Quay-"

" _Should_ be underwater," Mr. Norris continued. "That would be the natural way of things, and actually by now the water level would have risen to be nearly-"

"Hey man," said the taller, floppy-haired young man. "Maybe save the marine lecture for after the program, okay?"

Simone bestowed an enigmatic smile on Cara's defender as Mr. Norris harrumphed into his sweater. The young man looked startled.

"Lots of people died at sea," Cara said bluntly. "The community of widows turned to spiritualism, and in that tradition, we are holding a séance with my girlfriend." Cara sat down abruptly in the stunned silence.

Simone patted her shoulder. "I'm so proud of you, babe."

Cara hid her face in her hands. "Oh my god..."

"Okay, people, this is a séance, you know how this works," Simone said, turning her attention to the table at large and giving up on any pretense of mysterious sexiness. "All join hands, state your name and who you'd like to contact. I have a headache, so let's get a move on. I'll start us off—I'm Simone, and I will be your psychic this evening." She grinned and raised a brow and watched as Mr. Norris recoiled under her gaze. The two young men exchanged a worried glance, and Detective Martinez was the first to place her hands on the table.

Perhaps this night would be interesting after all.

* * *

Sam made a note of everyone's position around the table, in case the lights went out during the séance. There was the scary psychic lady, with her wild hair, tattoos, and leather bustier, sitting in the fancy chair; Cara, the petite blonde librarian, sat to her girlfriend's right; then a small, round man in an interesting sweater; then Dean, himself, a tired-looking female cop, a young woman in a satin top and a bunch of heart jewelry, and then back to psychic Simone. Psychic Simone looked like she had one hell of a migraine, and Sam completely sympathized.

His attention was drawn back to the rest of the table when the round man announced his name was Mr. Norris, and he wanted to contact Cthulhu. Sam figured—Sam _hoped—_ he was joking.

Dean was up next. "My name is Det-" Sam kicked him under the table and tipped his head at the cop next to him, "-er. Doctor...Venkman. And this is my associate," Dean continued, indicating Sam. "Mr. Zuul."

Simone snorted into her water glass. Sam lifted a hand and smiled, and plotted Dean's payback after this case.

"Hey. Some of you probably know me; I'm Detective Martinez. Well, Acting Chief, right now. I..." She seemed about to speak, then her expression closed up and she folded her hands on the table. "I'm just here as an observer."

"Okay, hi? I'm Brandi?" The blonde fiddled with her heart necklace. "With an 'I'?"

Everyone stared at her, but that seemed to be all. Brandi smiled.

Simone made them all join hands and led them through a highly commercialized séance opening. Sam gave an inward sigh of relief. She might be a real psychic, but she clearly wasn't about to put her powers on display in front of civilians. All he and Dean had to do was sit through a fake séance and chat with Simone and Cara afterwards. Then they could get some dinner and find a motel and he could finally get his map in order. Sam had a strong feeling that if he could just _see_ the pattern that was being built across the county with the locations and numbers of all the missing books, it would finally become clear-

Brandi screamed. Sam opened his eyes. Mr. Norris was glowing.

* * *

"Mr. Norris?" Cara asked tentatively. She tugged at her hand, but it was clenched in Mr. Norris's grip and he showed no sign of letting go. He was levitating a few inches off his chair now, the sickly green glow surrounding him. His sparse hair wafted gently in a private breeze.

"You don't often see that kind of behavior in a middle-aged man," Simone murmured.

"What's happening?" demanded Det. Martinez. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's being used as a conduit for an entity," the tall young man (whom Cara did not for a moment believe was called "Mr. Zuul") said urgently. "No, _don't_ let go," he continued, grabbing at Martinez's hand. "It'll break the connection, and we need to hear what it wants."

"But Mr. Norris..." Cara protested. She didn't care for the man, but she didn't want him _possessed_ , either.

"Hey," said Simone, upping her chin at the young men across the table. "Do you boys know a Robert Singer?"

" _I AM THE UNCHARTED,_ " Mr. Norris roared. He sounded like he was speaking through a tin can underwater. " _I AM THE DEEP. PRESUMPTUOUS MORTALS, HEED MY CALL. THE WATER WILL RISE, AND THE OLDEN GODDESS WITH IT. YOUR COMEUPPANCE IS OVERDUE!_ "

Mr. Norris thumped back into his chair. The green light disappeared, and he slumped face-down on the tabletop, snoring. Cara quickly retrieved her hand and massaged the cramps out of her fingers.

"Dude wasn't kidding about Cthulhu," Dr. Venkman said.

"Other than the glowing and the floating," Simone said, "that actually wasn't much different than how he usually is."

"Someone," said Martinez, standing up, "needs to tell me what the hell is going on."

Brandi cocked her head to one side. "What was that noise?"

"My name is Sam," said the tall young man, also standing. "This is my brother Dean. You all-"

"Y'all need to skedaddle," said Dean, pulling a silver gun out of his waistband and checking the magazine clip. "I don't know exactly what we're dealing with here, so maybe get out of town if you can. Definitely don't summon shit," he added, pointing at Simone.

"Seriously, does anyone else hear that?"

"How about you put the gun down, sir," Martinez said in her scary-cop voice.

"How about you leave this to the professionals, ma'am," Dean said.

"Dean, that's not-" Sam started.

"Hey!" Brandi smacked her perfectly manicured hand on the table. "Shut up for a minute and listen!"

Startled, everyone complied. There was a distant rumbling, growing louder, and it seemed to be coming from underneath them. Cara remembered the break room sink and felt sick. The rumbling sound rose, and then the old house started vibrating. Car alarms sounded off outside, and the electricity flickered once and gave up. Simone grabbed Cara and pulled her head down to her chest, protecting her, and Cara stifled a whimper against Simone's bird-wing tattoos.

A loud glooping, gushing noise, and the house fell still and silent. Cara cautiously raised her head.

"What was all _that_ about?" asked Mr. Norris, who chose now to wake up.

"It sounded like a squid puking," Brandi said, wrinkling her nose.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said quietly, peering out the bay window. "Looks like the parking lot at the bottom of the hill is flooded."

"And that is why I parked around the block," Dean muttered. He was standing guard at the doorway to the hall, gun up in front like a TV person. Martinez had a hand on her hip holster, and Cara wondered why she hadn't already drawn her weapon. She gathered these guys were Bobby Singer's reinforcements, but Martinez couldn't know that and she wasn't usually gun-shy.

"I don't trust that water," Sam said, still eyeing the outdoors.

"Right. Sam," Dean said, issuing orders over his shoulder, "I'm gonna check the basement in this place-"

"I'm going with you," Martinez cut in.

"I'm not babysitting you," Dean warned.

"I didn't ask you to," snapped Martinez.

"Both of you, cut it out," said Sam. "Safety in pairs. Just go. And I'll take everyone else to the upper floors."

"Good. Let's go, people." Dean headed out to the hallway, Martinez following.

"Cara?" Sam leaned on the table to meet her eyes. "You know this house really well, right?" Cara nodded. "Okay, then I'm gonna need you in front with me. Simone, can you help Brandi and Mr. Norris?"

"You got it, big man," Simone said. She helped Cara to her feet and kissed her ear. Cara went to stand by Sam and wished she felt less like throwing up.

"Up we go, Mr. Norris." Simone hauled him out of his chair. "Your little friends are trying to kill us."

* * *

The basement was completely dark. A dank and rotten briny smell assaulted them as soon as Dean opened the door. He descended the stairs in front, weapon at the ready for—he didn't really know what, but he never liked being caught unaware. There was a click over his shoulder, and Det. Martinez shone her flashlight high enough for them both to see.

"So, Detective," Dean began, checking the floor. He was stepping down into ankle-deep, muddy water. "Or do you prefer Acting Chief?"

"I prefer Martinez. And the AC part is just until Brady gets back from his cruise."

"Martinez, then. How about you tell me why you brought a gun to a séance, and why you're afraid to use it."

"Asks the man who brought a gun to a séance," said Martinez.

"Well, I know _my_ reasons," he said, and Martinez huffed a laugh.

They stood in a wood-paneled hallway that stretched the length of the basement. Four doors stood open, two on either side of the hall. The cold water swirled and rose to mid-calf.

"Okay," Martinez said, eyeing the water. "I brought my gun because I haven't taken it off in two weeks, after what happened to my partner. Reason I haven't drawn it, either. Same coin, two sides. This water is getting higher, isn't it?"

"Yep. Stay close." The current of the water was coming from the second door on their left. Dean checked the doorway, then nudged the door open wider, pushing hard against the water.

Inside was an empty kitchen. One tiny window high on the wall was barred and underwater on the outside. Martinez's flashlight found the sink—full of brown water, churning into a nasty waterfall over the side and onto the floor. The water was at their knees now.

Dean started rummaging around for something to try and stop up the sink. "What happened to your partner?" he asked. "Martinez?"

The light disappeared behind him. Dean swung around. Martinez was staring into the water swirling around her legs. She was swaying slightly, the flashlight held limply at her side.

"Martinez!" Dean shook her shoulder. "Hey, look at me, lady."

Her head raised, then her eyes seemed to clear and she focused her gaze and her light on his face. Dean squinted.

"Sorry." Martinez lowered the light slightly. "Sorry, I don't know what happened there."

"Sam's right, there's something wrong with this water. Don't look at it. Try to ignore it."

"Oh, sure, piece of cake. What water, right?"

"You get snarky when you're stressed, you know that?" Dean opened overhead cabinet doors, hunting for something heavy to put over the sink drain. "Help me look. Need at least twenty pounds, in some form." He glanced back at her. "And tell me about your partner."

Martinez set her flashlight on end on the counter so the light diffused enough for them both to see. "He got shot during a traffic stop, two weeks ago. Some assholes coming back from the beach. Few people around here have hunting rifles, but it's not really a high crime area, you know? It was so random. It... scared me. I'm not dealing well." She hefted an economy box of animal crackers at him. "Yes, no?"

"Not heavy enough." The water curled at mid-thigh, icy and invasive. He assessed the burbling sink. They weren't going to find anything down here before the water got too high. Besides, the water wasn't the core problem.

"So you came here tonight to try and contact your dead partner?" he asked, checking the water-logged fridge, just in case there was a giant frozen turkey in the freezer.

"If I want to contact Louis, I can just call the hospital," Martinez said. "My God, you have a dark mind."

"Comes with the job. Look, we need to get back upstairs-"

"Hallelujah." Martinez grabbed her flashlight and waded for the door.

"Hello?" called a wavering female voice from the hall. "Guys? Or, um, guy and lady cop? Anybody?"

"Brandi?" Martinez asked, and Dean joined her at the door.

"What are you doing down here?" he demanded. "Where are the others?"

"Upstairs?" Brandi frowned. "I was supposed to tell you something."

"Great." Dean splashed toward the stairs. "You can tell us everything on the way back up."

Martinez squinted past Brandi. "Did you shut the basement door?"

"Maybe...?"

"You take the light, I'll get the door." Martinez handed the flashlight off to Dean and squeezed past Brandi on the stairs.

"Wait!" said Brandi. "I remembered what I'm supposed to tell you!"

"And what's that," Dean said, trying to herd her toward the exit.

Brandi suddenly leaned down, her neck stretching and twisting. " _Die, mortalssss. Die in the water and feed our queen._ " She smiled, and all her teeth were needles.

Dean yelled and dodged Brandi's snapping jaws. Martinez spun around on the step above, braced herself on the banisters, and kicked out with both feet, sending Brandi tumbling into the water below. Dean charged up the stairs, grabbing Martinez and pulling her along, but the water surged high, eating up the stairs and swallowing their legs.

Martinez slipped and clutched at Dean's hand. He tried to pull her back up, but lost his footing on the slick stairs. The water receded in a rush, dragging them down every wooden step and plunging them into the swirling depths of the basement.

"Martinez!" Dean whipped the water out of his eyes. He latched on to the banister and found the floor again. The water was up to his chest. The flashlight was long gone and the basement waited in near-complete darkness. Something slick and disturbingly fishy slid past his legs.

The water thrashed at the bottom of the stairs and Dean headed for the spot, picturing Martinez locked in battle with whatever nightmare Brandi had become. He gulped down air and dove beneath the surface. His hands closed first around wet hair, which earned him a gurgling shriek and an elbow to the gut, but he got his arms around Martinez's waist and hauled her up with him.

They staggered back and hit the wall, and Martinez sputtered and yelped and hit him again. "My foot... is stuck... in the railing, you asshole," she gasped. "Stop yanking."

"We need to get out of here," Dean said urgently.

"You're telling me." She tried to straighten up and nearly crumpled down into the water again. Dean tightened his arm around her and moved them closer to the stair rail.

"Secretly, you're enjoying this-" Martinez started, and then the fishy sliding thing went past their legs again and she went perfectly still. "What the hell was that."

" _That_ was Brandi," Dean said grimly. He pulled his gun from his waistband and hoped the sudden dunking hadn't jammed it. "We're going up, you good?"

Martinez nodded. They went up one, then two steps. The water dropped to waist-deep, but disconcerting ripples eddied around them.

"Now would be a good time to get out your gun," Dean suggested.

"We're not shooting her," Martinez said flatly.

"She's a fucking mermaid, trying to kill us."

" _Now_." She shifted and hissed in pain. "What if she turns back into a real girl after this shit show is over? Then I have paperwork." Her wet hand gripped his hard and he could feel her shaking. "Just get me out of this damn basement, okay?"

"You got it, Detective." He put his gun away and shifted her hands to the banister. "You're not going to turn into a surprise mermaid on me, are you?" he asked, only half-joking.

"Hope not. Can't swim."

Dean pulled out his knife and flicked it open, preparing to go under again and cut Martinez's boot free, when something clicked in his mind and he paused. "If you weren't trying to contact your dead partner-"

"Because he's not dead."

"-then why did you come tonight?"

"Cara asked me to. She said she thought there might be trouble. Which was weird. I mean, library program. But she sounded... odd, on the phone, so I said yes."

"Why would she call you tonight when she'd already called us?"

"That's... incredibly egotistical of you, but I'm gonna let it slide in view of the whole mermaid situation." She shivered violently as the water took on an icy chill around them. "And Cara didn't call me tonight. She called me a week ago."

* * *

The watery light of the hurricane lantern Cara had snagged from the hall closet led the way upstairs. Simone saw Sam glance back at her, then slow his pace on the stairs so they were walking side by side. Simone met him halfway and left Mr. Norris to tramp along with Brandi behind her.

"So you're the one who called us tonight, right?" Sam said in a low voice.

"No, that was Cara." Simone nodded at her girlfriend up ahead. "Apparently I was passed out on the carpet at the time."

"The entity possessed you, too?"

Simone snorted. "It _tried_. I'm psychic, honey. If I let in every stray soul that comes knocking, I'd never have a body to call my own. Kicked the little fucker out, and it left me with a migraine and salt-mouth as a thank you."

Sam nodded and seemed lost in thought. Simone glanced back to check on the straggler's progress and stopped.

"Mr. Norris, where's Brandi?"

Mr. Norris peered all around him, as if the tall blonde might be hiding in the woodwork. "Oh. Well. Hmm. I don't know."

"And you call yourself the mayor of this town." Simone shook her head and leaned over the banister to check the lower stairs.

"Wait, he's the _mayor_?" Sam asked.

Mr. Norris scowled. "Don't sound so shocked, young man."

"We're here," said Cara, at the top of the stairs. "This is the attic. Well, the attic landing."

Simone gave up on Brandi and slid past Sam to join Cara, who was looking positively green in the candlelight. "You doing okay, honey?"

Cara shook her head. "I feel like I'm going to hurl. And I'm _so thirsty_."

Simone took the lantern from her. "Well, there's a bathroom up here, right?" She started opening doors. "You can get a drink of water and-" She stopped. She lifted the lantern and peered into the room beyond.

"Cara," she said slowly. "Babe, why are all the books on cephalopods up here in the attic?"

* * *

Things happened very quickly after that. Sam ran up the last few steps and took the lantern from Simone, holding it higher to investigate. He couldn't see all the titles, but he knew they were all there—all the missing books, from all the county libraries, stacked in impossibly high and intricate patterns around the room.

"Oh _dear_ ," said Mr. Norris, and Sam spun around. Cara was gagging and retching and clutching at the air. Simone shoved past him and he said, "Don't touch her!" but she ignored him.

"You get the fuck out of my girlfriend _right now_ ," Simone growled, grabbing Cara's shoulders. "You do not want to fight me on the astral plane, bitch."

Cara's eyes rolled back and her head lolled and then the tiny tips of four white tentacles crept out of her open mouth.

"Simone," Sam warned, taking hold of her, "please let go and back away. _Now_."

The tentacles grew, lengthening, waving and probing the air. Simone seemed mesmerized. Sam set the lantern down. "Mr. Norris, go get my brother!" he called. Mr. Norris was staring at the tentacles, too.

One white tentacle whipped out. Sam yanked Simone back and it whizzed past their heads, landing a slicing blow on the wall and leaving a fizzing acid burn on the dark green paper. Simone scrambled up and gave him a hand, and they ducked into the room of stolen books.

"There's got to be something in here that can help," Sam said, swiftly scanning titles.

"You're going to do _research_ right now?" Simone demanded.

"I've never dealt with something like this before! These books could save her!"

"I don't even understand why she _has_ them all." Simone snaked a hand out and snagged the lantern from the landing. "Was she stockpiling them so people couldn't learn about squid gods?"

Sam took another look at the room. "No, no you're right. There's something else at work here."

"Sam?" Dean's voice roared up the stairs. "Sam, it's Cara!"

Sam stuck his head out of the book room. "No shit. Watch out for the goddess on the landing."

Cara still stood stock still, her head bowed and the tentacles waving gently. Her body was starting to be surrounded by a purplish-blue glow.

"Okay, then." said Dean. Sam squinted. Dean was supporting a heavily limping Detective Martinez. They were both sopping wet and continuing a private argument. ("You wouldn't let me shoot her, but you'll leave her handcuffed to the banister in a flooding basement?" "She's a mermaid, she'll be fine.") Sam left them to it.

Simone picked a book up off on of the stacks. "Lovecraft. What about this?"

"I don't think this is strictly Cthulhu," Sam began, and then Dean called to him from the landing.

"The olden goddess is getting angry," he reported, joining them in the book room and propping Martinez on the wall. "And what about Norris out there?"

Sam stuck his head out again. Mr. Norris was genuflecting on the floor. "Yeah, we're leaving him for now."

Simone kept checking different books and Sam joined her, flipping through the pages and setting them aside. Half seemed to be fiction and many were children's books about ocean life. But it wasn't the books themselves that were bothering him. It was their construction in this room-

Sam's train of thought was derailed by a stifled cry from Martinez. Her lower leg was bleeding, and Dean was trying to wrap a strip of fabric around the the cut, while keeping an eye on the situation outside.

"They always say, like salt in a wound," Martinez said through gritted teeth, "I never got it until now."

" _Salt_." Sam dropped the books he was holding. "That's it! Dean, was that salt water in the basement?"

"Yep."

"And Simone-"

"I was thirsty, after that thing tried to get in me. And Cara was just saying she needed a drink of water."

"What are you thinking, Sam?" Dean asked.

"Ocean goddess." Sam waved one of the kids' books. "Saltwater organisms can't survive in freshwater. Simone, you said there was a bathroom up here?"

Simone nodded. "They put one in when they tried to make it a multi-family home. It's... behind Cara."

"Does it have a shower?"

"I... think so..."

"Okay, Simone, I'm going to need your help. Dean, can you and Martinez stay here?" He set the book down and it dislodged a pile. "Still not sure what all this is about-"

Out on the landing, the olden goddess roared.

" _I HAVE YOUR KINGS AND QUEENS. I HAVE THIS NEW FORM. THIS TOWN IS MINE. THIS TOWN WAS ALWAYS MINE. AT MIDNIGHT THE SACRIFICE WILL BE COMPLETED AND MY ARMIES WILL RISE!"_

"Sounds fun," said Dean.

"Kings and queens...?" Simone looked confused.

"Acting Chief," said Martinez from the floor. "The rest of the force, the beach, the cruise..."

"She's using the water to control people," Dean said. "And we know Norris is obsessed."

"Norris is the mayor," Sam pointed out, and Dean swore. "What about Brandi?"

"Oh, you mean fish bitch in the basement?" Dean asked.

"Brandi Newman is head cheerleader. She's the queen bee of the high school." Martinez tried to get up and Dean gave her a hand.

"She brought us all here," Sam said.

"Cara's been planning this?" Simone asked. "For—for how long?"

"Not Cara," Sam tried to be reassuring and failed. "Something has been using Cara, probably without her realizing it. She either disposed of people or gathered them all here-"

"To be sacrificed," Simone finished. "And the books?"

"The pattern." Sam waved his hand at the Jenga-like construction around them. "This is the pattern the missing books would have made on the map. She recreated it up here. It's a summoning circle of some kind. For her. And her army."

Three white tentacles shot through the doorway and they all hit the floor.

"Great job, nerd herd," said Dean. "Time to move!"

"Simone, you're with me!" Sam took her hand and edged for the door. The tentacles still waved above their heads, feeling the air. "Dean, you and Martinez need to dismantle all these books."

"Burn them?" Dean suggested.

"She's inhabiting a librarian, Dean, that's probably not a good idea. Just, throw them around or something. Diffuse the power." He checked with Simone. "On my count, get the bathroom door open. One, two, _three_."

Simone scuttled out the door and Sam launched himself at Cara. He put his shoulder to her stomach and pushed her back like a football player, ignoring the whipping, stinging tentacles thrashing all around him. Cara's body felt like a live wire and the purple glowing cloud made it nearly impossible to see, but he rammed her through the open bathroom doorway.

Simone already had the shower running. She gave them a shove and all three of them toppled inside, slipping on the tile and landing in a tangled heap beneath the ice-cold spray.

Cara screamed. The tentacles shriveled and snaked their way back into her mouth, but she kept screaming and screaming, her body throwing itself against the glass door. Simone tried to protect Cara's head, and Sam held her down, as the purple glow became thick white mist and Cara's screams became guttural growls.

Yelling from the landing and a someone shouted, "Goddammit, Mr. Norris!" and then Cara bit Sam's arm and he was yelling too and Cara kicked out and the shower door shattered and an endless, shuddering, thumping crash sounded outside the bathroom and then everything was silent, as if turned off by a switch.

Sam heard his own breathing first. The sound of the shower running came through next, and he reached up to turn it off. Cara lay unconscious on the tile.

"Babe? Cara?" Simone carefully pulled Cara into her lap. "Sweetheart, please..."

"Sam?" Dean called.

"Yeah." Sam stood up, his knees shaking, and stepped to the doorway, his feet crunching on the broken glass.

The landing was covered in library books, hundreds more of them cascading down the staircase. Dean had another stack in his hands, ready to toss, and Martinez sat on Mr. Norris's chest, a thick encyclopedia of marine life raised in warning.

"Bit of an altercation," Dean said. "You all okay in there?"

Sam looked back. Cara and Simone were wrapped around each other, kissing in the shower.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, we're okay."

* * *

Downstairs in the parlor again, the séance table was cleared off and Cara sat Sam down and insisted on disinfecting and dressing the bite wound she'd given him. She was on her fourth round of apologies, and Sam cut her off. "Seriously, this is nothing. People bite me all the time." Simone, who hadn't let Cara out of her sight since the attic bathroom, collapsed on the tabletop in half-hysterical laughter.

Brandi, rescued from the basement, dried her hair with paper towels and fielded questions from Mr. Norris, whose experiences had only stoked his enthusiasm for the life aquatic.

Dean helped Martinez into a chair and then leaned on the table next to her. She stared up at him, one eyebrow raised. He cleared his throat. "So, Detective. You got a first name?"

"I do."

He smirked. "You gonna make me beg?"

"Maybe," she said, and then relented. "It's Talia."

"Talia. Can I buy you a beer, Talia?"

"No. But I might let you buy me a slice of pie, if the diner's not flooded out."

"Sam." Dean smacked his brother's arm. "Sam, go get in the car, we're leaving. _Now_ , Sam. Pie."

Sam laughed and turned back to Cara and Simone. "It seems we're going out for pie now. You want to come with?"

Cara cast a glance toward the parking lot. "I'm not sure our cars are up to it. The water..."

"Just pile in with us," Sam suggested. "Brandi and Mr. Norris, too. We'll drop you at home after."

"You have room for all of us?"

"Oh, sure." Sam smiled. "You'd be surprised how many people we can fit in our car."


End file.
